


Iu Aduru Vi, Vitanni!

by Iurien



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Angel & Demon Interactions, Angel & Human Interactions, Crimes & Criminals, Gangs, Minor Violence, Other, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-06-09 17:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19480516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iurien/pseuds/Iurien
Summary: Michael Architure is a newly-graduated Guardian Angel, who eagerly awaits for his first day on the job and the cushy assignment of a lifetime. Only, he doesn't get it- The assignment turns out to be for River Johnson, a 25-year old human living in Louisiana whose home life isn't just troubled, it's led to a slew of arson, theft, and gang experiences. Nursing a dead companion and more than a few wrong turns, Michael is forced to try and bring River onto the path of God and worship. It's that simple, right?Except, Michael can't even talk to River, much less steer them in the right direction. Great, how is he going to convert them now?





	1. Wreck of an Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Hailing from a Hazbin Hotel RP server, Michael (owned by me) and River (owned by marty-m8 on tumblr) already have quite the history together, though not exactly in this form. We came up with a guardian angel AU and I recently was struck with the urge to write it out in full form. This is going to be hopefully very long, and very slow. I'm often busy, so this likely won't be updating very often. Still, here's to hoping!
> 
> Thanks for trying this out, hope you find it to your liking.

“I have an assignment for you, Michael.” Came the monotonous words, loud in the otherwise silent room of the temple.

Michael almost made a sound of surprise, but stifled himself- He knew being the last one out of the room meant the assignment _had_ to be important. Or at least, he hoped it was. The angel didn’t spend 6 years in college, just to not become a Guardian Angel. 

Weeks, months spent poring over diplomacy documents and codes of ethics, reciting the words of God Himself that he would one day relay to the humans of Earth, proving himself beyond expectations in the combat rounds in the hopes that one day, he could be commended for it for more than just a 100% mark. Michael worked hard to stand here, in this moment, in front of a guardian mentor, sent to manage the new recruits, to receive an assignment he no doubt _deserved_ to receive. Whatever it was, it required privacy and patience, perhaps even congratulatory comments. Would he be given to a human of great importance, like a president or royal? Perhaps someone who’s had historical significance reborn, or even someone who is destined to be more than what others say? Would Michael even be sent to somewhere other than Earth itself, across the cosmos to a life-form he couldn’t yet understand?

“Their name is River,” _Who?_ “A human with little faith, if any. A sinner, for sure- Arson, theft, violence of any nature, really.” The mentor stared down at the clipboard clutched in pale fingers, apparently reading off the list of various crimes against God this ‘River’ has been committing, with a flippant expression. Their voice did not waver, nor was there any sympathy to it. It merely echoed off of the marble walls, columns and bare-bones of a roof. 

Michael physically deflated, disappointed beyond belief. Is this really what he was assigned to? Some sinner that already sounded not worth his time? He had better things to do, humans to convert, demons to fight, than this trivial trite! He deserved better than this, he _worked_ for better than this. What could Michael really do for someone as obtuse as this one already sounded? He was ordered to be invisible, undetectable, so that whatever influence he had wouldn't be direct and would be genuine on his ward's part. Only, Michael didn't know how he could possibly steer someone led so astray with mere works that could be passed off as good luck and- _Why did he study for this again?_

“-before the dawn. Michael? Are you listening?” A swift _whap_ upon the young angel’s head was enough to knock him from the introspective stupor, jerking in place and gaze snapping to the anger-filled visage of his mentor. Michael put himself together quickly, and replied.

“Of course, your resoluteness. I take this assignment with great appreciation.” Michael almost bowed before deciding against it. It would have been too...Ah, what was the word for it? Suck-up? Yes, that sounded right. Michael was met with a less intense stare, as the mentor retracted and held out a folder, presumably on the human he was given. Michael took it, but did not open it. He held eye contact then with the other, hoping to pose as confident as ever. Or perhaps he should be more charming than that, if it would get him a better job. 

“Go, your start is at dawn. You shall not come back unbidden or without great cause. Ezqellie will be stationed to a pair of twins in the same city- If you have questions, go to her,” The mentor turned, shoes clacking on fine marble flooring as their two sets of wings fluttered, “Farewell, and good luck.” 

Michael sighed. This is going to be a long stretch of time, for however long this River will live...

—————————————

Alright, so the orientation didn’t go THAT well- But there was hope yet! Michael felt optimistic as he descended down into Earth, expertly maneuvering between the clouds. If he played his cards right, he might score a different assignment. Perhaps the guard is short staffed still, and he can get placed elsewhere, someone more befitting to his skills. The angel hoped to the heavens and back that _something_ would tear him away from the slums of humanity’s worst. 

_‘Don’t think that way now, Michael. Hold onto the hope, just wing your way to victory- It came so easily before, why wouldn’t it now?’_ The angel thought, brow set in a determined furrow. As he neared the location of his assignment, the pit in his stomach absolutely did not settle. What he would give to be back in college at the moment...

A burst of unexpectedly strong wind blew him off course, and struggled to compensate. Wings startled and his mind in a sudden panic, they curled up tighter around him. Losing altitude at an increasing rate, but too low to regain any of it, Michael threw flight to the wind and settled on protecting himself. Bracing his arms around his head and neck, he let himself drop.

The first thing he felt was the impact- Incredibly painful and he’s entirely sure it’s concrete that he hit and it broke something. The second thing was the skidding, velocity an unkind force of nature to both his pride and his skin. Michael didn’t stop until he collided with the lip of the surface, likely a roof now that he thinks about it, further damaging his ribs. Finally out of the tide of motion, Michael groaned- This is how the first day is going to go, huh? That’s fine. This is fine. _Everything is fine_. Michael sat up slowly, hyper-aware of each pulled muscle and growing bruise across his body. Hoisting to wobbly feet, the angel set to look around. 

It was definitely a roof, that was for sure, and out in the middle of nowhere. He couldn’t be certain, but the large expanse of concrete roofing created a picture of a warehouse, and the decrepit nature of it betrayed its age and lack of use. Is this where the human is supposed to be, in some dumb warehouse that probably hasn’t been touched in decades? Whatever the location, it was stupid and Michael was already having none of it. Despite his levels of pain, he made way to the ground floor, stumbling across the roof to get to a nearby ladder. 

Only, he didn’t make it quite that far. 

Shuffling feet caught on an upturned portion of concrete, chasing the man to stumble forward, waving his arms about in attempt to regain balance. It didn’t work, at least not as well as he hoped it would. The action managed to catapult him not forward towards the floor, but into a nearby open pipe protruding from the roof. Michael was stuck halfway into it, torso twisting to get himself out, but only succeeded in granting himself more pain and a yelp that echoed in the metal pipe. A few more movements dedicated to escaping only sent him in further, and eventually lost all purchase and slid down all the way. _‘Curse my shortness-!’_

Hurdling down wasn’t much different than his previous fall from grace, so to speak- Only it was more controlled and he bumped into the bends of the vents much more often than he did the roof itself. Each impact was sure to flower another bruise, and by the time Michael tumbled out of the vents, he felt like a hacky sack and a slinky at the same time. The angel groaned face first on the floor, not even bothering to move until every nerve ending stopped screaming at him. Which took a while. It wasn’t until he heard voices that Michael shot up, ignoring the pain in favor of finding the source of said voices. Wherever they were, one of those were bound to belong to his assignment. With a huff of indignation, Michael stood and walked, robes billowing behind him.

This was definitely a warehouse, alright. Large, open space, made of nothing but crude and cold materials that poorly held against nature and time if not given the proper care and maintenance. There were dozens, hundreds of cracks along floors, walls and columns, and every bit of metal in this godforsaken place was rusted and if you listened closely, you could almost hear them screaming _‘Tetanus.’_ Michael wasn’t about to find out if earthly diseases could kill him, so he walked faster, turning down a hall that seemed like a good choice, if the ever growing voices were an indicator. They were close enough now that Michael could make out a good few of the words, and already he didn’t like this situation. 

“-So then we can grab the goods, and hightail it outta there in the truck. You got it in good shape, right, Em?” A rough, hyper voice said. A shuffle could be heard, faintly. Michael scrunched up his face slightly, stopping just outside the room he was sure these people were in.

“Yeah yeah, of course I do. Got it running last night, with the oil we snatched up.” An accented woman replied. Michael couldn’t remember what exact accent it was, not that he would ever need to.

“Ya better, or else this plan is goin’ to _shit_.” Michael’s guts did a flip at this new one, whoever spoke up- Instinct told him that _this was the one_. Those words belonged to the assignment, Michael’s personal prison sentence. Swallowing hard, he didn’t want to round that corner but he had to, he had to face his reality. The longer he idled there in the doorway, the deeper the pit in his stomach was going to dig itself. Inhaling deeply and holding it there, Michael braced himself and shot into the room, stopping only a foot into it to gawk. They were still talking, to the Heavens they talked, but there they were- 

River Johnson. Michael's assignment. 


	2. Escaping Escapades

Somehow, the ‘introduction’ went smoother than orientation did. But only just barely. 

River’s still an absolutely madman, very much proving to be part of a real live gang and thriving for it. Between 17 petty thefts, 8 counts of knife-pulling, and a Molotov mistake at a lumbering factory this week alone, Michael’s had his hands full trying desperately to get this _damn human to do something nice for once_. It seemed like River was naturally adverse to even the slightest acts of God, as they’d ignored every speck of good luck and fortune Michael meticulously cast upon them. From coercing animals to cozy up, to straight up saving their life during a heist, River was immune to the thought that maybe something else was at play than good luck. The first thing Guardian Angels have to do is to get their ward to find the positive parts of life, but with this one? It’s less like smooth sailing and more like the Titanic. 

Michael was currently beating his head against a concrete beam in the warehouse.

“Did you see the look on that chick’s face? That’s priceless, I’d say!” One of the men guffawed, liquid spilling from his mouth as he tried to laugh and drink at the same time. 

“Nah, it’s got a price: $124! Right there in her wallet! Can you believe that?” The accented woman, apparently named Em, from earlier rebutted. She was nursing an old bandage on her thigh with an unholy substitute- hand sanitizer and an old t-shirt. Michael groaned internally this time as he watched her. He knew it would get infected within days, if it wasn’t already. If he was her guardian angel, _maybe_ he would do something about it, but as it stands, he detests the woman utterly.

“Yo, can ya fuckin shut up?! I’m tryin’ t’get some sleep around here!” Michael startled at the now-all-too-familiar voice, focusing his stare back on his ward, whom of which was currently draped over a ripped up couch like a ragdoll. They lazily waved a hand with an obscene gesture towards the group huddled nearby. 

“Then go elsewhere, dumbass, we’re not your babysitters.” Em yelled back, louder this time to spite River. She flipped the same gesture back as well, but was looking elsewhere at the time to care if River did another...

Michael sighed, choosing to ignore the group for now and focusing on his ward. He meandered over, staring down at the frustrated human with a deep look of disdain. For a moment it looked like River was going to respond, leaning up on their elbows with a jump, hesitating with a pissed off look, before laying back down in a movement just as harsh. _‘Older than me, yet such a child...Eugh, humans.’_ Michael thought. 

He had a particular hate for this one, though.

Shaking his head, Michael idled nearby as River fell into a fitful sleep on the couch, tossing and turning. It was fortunate that the others turned in for the night- It was already 12am during the initial part of their conversation- As Michael absolutely could not stand to hear them utter a single syllable for the rest of the night. Lack of education was evident in these humans, as well as lack of restraint and dignity. River...Was not much different, though they certainly held themself to a higher standard. 

Ew, what? Higher standards or not, Michael knew they couldn’t even _begin_ to compare to his own, or Heaven’s in general- Even the lower class was better than this. Yes, he’d much prefer to associate himself with the likes of that half-blood, Ammienna, back in Heaven. She may have half of herself come from the slums, but the other half was enough to stomach. Still, the thought of surrounding himself with the likes of lesser civilian angels was enough to make him nauseated. What he’d give to be back home right now, attending extravagant balls and charming the socks off of likeminded individuals...

A small sound awoke Michael from his fervent daydreaming. It came from the couch- And Michael could see now that River was kicking a leg out in retaliation to something, bumping their leg harshly to the armrest. That would probably bruise in the morning. He made haste to the back of the couch, peering over it to find a still-asleep River, but obviously experiencing a nightmare. Sweat poured from their body, well-defined muscles tensing in rhythm. The cargo pants they wore weren’t great for venting the heat of the warehouse, but the mesh crop top definitely was. What even was River’s fashion sense...? Michael shook his head. _‘Now’s not the time to fret over an imbecile’s poor choice of sleepwear, focus!’_

He knew what he could do, but it was risky as it came with the potential chance of revealing himself. Still, if he did, they could always pull him from the job for violating code...Michael’s shred of hope was squashed out when he reminded himself that such a violation would prevent him from rising up in the ranks like he’d hoped. So, with resignation, the angel carefully stuck his hands out over River, closing his eyes and focusing holy Light to the palms of pale hands. They glowed faintly, but enough to do the trick- The glow would be visible to humans, so he had to act fast, before any of the other members decided to come into the main room and be witness to this feat of magic.

“Let us see what plagues your sinful mind, child of God...” Michael muttered, losing himself to the imagery of River’s fatigued mind.

—————————

_It was intensely blurry, almost colorless at the edges of his (River’s?) vision. Events seemed to fly by, blurring in the motion as they spun around the point of focus. There were moments it slowed down, memories rising to the surface like tar, hard to parse where it began and ended. Michael could distantly make out two tall figures, one female and one male, looking over what seemed to be a young child, indignant to the scolding they were receiving._

_The scene blurred yet again, coming to a small house, nicely kept and warm. The door was always open, night or day, and there was always someone to welcome them. Gradually, the house shifted to gray, shadows becoming thicker and darker, until barely anything looked as pleasing as before...Michael could feel it becoming frigidly cold, colder the deeper he ventured in, colder when he climbed the stairs and went to a room that hasn’t been touched in decades. Almost as a **memorial**. When the scene changed yet again, he noted that no one was in the house at all anymore._

_The next landscape to greet him was a more familiar one- A group of teenagers, just like River, offering their hands and welcoming another body to the cause, whatever the cause was. Explosions were ripping through the sky in the background, as River’s hand stretched out to take one of theirs, sealing the deal. Suddenly, pain tore through their skin, dozens of marks and burns and scars popping up, a testament to their experiences. Michael was trying to heal them somehow, soothe the burn from within the dream, lull the images to a muted screen so that River didn’t have to experience this so harshly. It was hard to breathe- Fire was all around and suffocating, suffocating, **so very suffocating-**_

—————————

Michael stumbled back with a gasp, eyes snapping open only to see the room receding as he fell to the ground. It made no sound to River, but they shot up from the couch anyway, just as startled as the angel was. They looked around frantically, Michael could practically hear their heart pounding even from his place on the floor. He shuffled, standing back up stiffly as he kept gaze to the young human. Tense and defensive, Michael didn’t want to heal from the dreams _ever_ again if it was going to be like that every time.

By the time River calmed down, Michael was seated far, far away, on a chair stuffed in the corner of the warehouse. He still made sure River was in sight, but didn’t want anything to do with his ward until those dreams were out of sight and out of mind entirely. 

“So much for helping you...” Michael muttered under his breath, sure that the words couldn’t reach the human. His disdain only held tighter, and his optimism continued to wane with each day of little to backwards progress. This? This was one of those backwards days. 

He couldn’t wait for this one to die, to be honest.

—————————

“River! What did I say about arson?!” Michael bellowed from his place in the sky, watching as River set fire to a persons pickup. It’s not like they could even hear him, anyway. According to the group, it was a neighboring gangs truck that often took pot shots at them if seen passing by. Some sort of rivalry was going on because of some petty grudge that Michael really didn’t care about. He did care, however, that it was affecting River’s progress, or lackthereof. It only made him cringe harder to see the young ward laugh maniacally as they hopped into the getaway car, tires skidding as they ran off into the night. Michael sighed, and begrudgingly followed in the air, taking stock of anyone chasing the vehicle speeding on the streets. 

It didn’t take long for them to get caught by the police, rushing through a red light as fast as they did, and soon enough those flashing red and blue lights tailgated the youngsters. Michael was hoping they’d step out, but of course they didn’t. Why would they? Why would they _ever_ do anything proper in their miserably short lives? A small part in the angel’s chest worried at the situation, surveying from the air gave a great perspective of how fast these two cars were going, and how River was hanging out the window on one side and- WHAT?!

Pulling a gun, River shot at the police car’s tires, but failed miserably. In retaliation, the police shot back- Much more successful than the gang. It swerved heavily, River struggling to not be knocked out of the car, and just barely managing as it skidded harshly to a stop on the side of the highway. It was walled off, and up in the air. There would be no escaping unless they wanted to careen several dozen feet to the rushing waters below, dense and thick forests around it. Though they just might be that stupid...Michael cursed under his breath as he too came to an idle flight above them- How _stupid_ could these people be?! A few other police vehicles surrounded them, effectively blocking off the rest of the road as the individuals were urged to come out of their hiding. 

River was the first to reveal themselves, hands in the air and generally looking non-threatening if it weren’t for the clothes and the aura of absolute murderous rage that flowed about them. Michael squinted- They had that _scheming_ look to them, shameful as the angel is to admit that they recognize it by now. The rest soon followed, same as River and looking much more outwardly angry about it. Michael heard the cops shout a few orders at them, but was too high up to really hear. He floated down to the ground, in front of his ward, glaring harshly. 

“You’re an idiot, you know that, right? It’s going to be kind of impossible to get out of this now...” He trailed off, looking at the road beneath the pure white dress shoes that adorn his feet. Suddenly...an idea. Crazy, risky for sure, and very much _not_ what he should be doing, but....

Michael kicked at the tossed bottle, letting him interact with the world physically for once, and startling the hell out of the officers around them. One, in a panic, shot at the bottle, and that proved to be a grave mistake pretty much immediately as it caught on fire and exploded.

“Molotov? Really? In the CAR?” Michael looked back at River with a ‘WTF?’ face, whom of which was just as startled as the cops were, rough features slightly worried but moreso concerning with escaping the situation. There was yelling, and when Michael looked up he saw another opportunity- For said escape, at least. Clicking his tongue, the angel flew up and broke the street lamp that lay above the group, essentially dousing them all in darkness, save the distant light of the other lamps, the headlights of the police cars, and the fire from the Molotov. Michael still couldn’t believe it had been there at all.

“Go, go, go!” Em shrieked, running for the edge of the road, long red hair waving behind her like a flag of some sort. It sure was matted like one...The others quickly followed suit, and didn’t hesitate one bit to jump over the low walling and plummeting to the waters below. 

“Oh to the Heavens, you really _are_ all that stupid!” Michael exclaimed, facepalming midair. He followed them down, giving one last check to the cops who were promptly panicking and freaking out. One part to the paranormal activity, and one part to their escapees.

The group was hightailing it down the river, maneuvering themselves to the bank on the side of it and climbing out, absolutely waterlogged and exhausted beyond belief. The forest was indeed good cover at this point, and they knew it- Before Michael or the cops could catch up, one by one they each darted into the treeline, effectively disappearing without a trace. He sighed, and resigned to flying and waiting at the warehouse. But there was one thing Michael knew for sure after the way tonight went...

River is as dumb as they are brave.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm sorry, you need _what_ from me?" Ezquellie looked completely bewildered, shoulders up high as she listened to the other angel's request.

"Please, just kill me and say it was a demon." Michael held a straight face as he pleaded for a death that wasn't coming anytime soon.

"Okaaayyy...And may I ask why you're requesting to be on Purg's doorstep? This isn't like you." She replied, concerned. Michael, in turn, ran a hand down his face exasperatedly.

"Because I can't deal with this human, this mortal demon spawn! Do you _know_ what River did this last week alone?! They stole a car! _And then peddled drugs in it!_ WHILE HIGH!" Michael gestured wildly as he vented, arms thrown into the air with every care he could physically be capable of, "And not just that, but the gang they've gotten themselves locked into isn't much better- In fact, they're _worse._ I have to spend just as much time around them as I do this horrible, horrible ward for a human and it's grating on _every nerve_ in my body." Ezquellie opened her mouth to respond, but Michael beat her to it. "I have better things to do than tend to a wicked soul. I could be be standing by a monarch, or a priest, or- or SOMETHING other than _them_." Michael was breathing heavily as his rant came to an end, Ezquellie looking on in a visceral moment of confusion and surprise. She had stepped back a couple feet during the tirade.

Ezquellie, who wore a second pair of golden wings, was a veteran of the profession. She served hundreds of years doing the job Michael was just beginning to touch on, and her reputation of being a master at it was more than justified. It wasn't that she succeeded in every assignment, but it was that she was there for her charge until the very end, made the best of efforts and caused a change in the human- Changing the lives of thousands meant more than converting a few hundred humans to christianity, and few understood that better than Ezquellie in Heaven's current environment. Michael being stationed just a few neighborhoods down from Ezquellie's assignment was more than just a blessing in disguise, it was a beacon of light in a clear field.

"Michael...I hate to say this...But this is what we _all_ do. All the time." Michael looked confused, and Ezquellie continued, "Every assignment, every redemption, every conversion- It's for humans that aren't like us in any way, shape, or form," Ezquellie started, staring into Michael's eyes, "If we were guardians for humans that already had a handle on life, we would be out of a job and an entire department up in heaven. We're meant to be here for those that were neglected, for those that purposefully strayed from God's Light- Not to be there to _claim the glory_ of a human that already found success for themselves." By now, the semi-Seraph looked almost offended by the other's stubbornness and obstinence, but found no action to take than to use her words.

Michael didn't seem very affected, like he hadn't taken in the words at all. He sighed, crossing his arms as a heterochromatic gaze fell upon the sunset of the afternoon. The man was practically pouting, and Ezquellie wasn't about to put up with it for much longer.

"Michael, just mull over my words for a bit, at least- **You're not here to sit pretty.** You're here to make a difference and be in someone's life who never had anyone stay, and it's your responsibility to figure out how to do that within the parameters we're given. _Please_ remember that." With the finality of her tone, Michael said nothing and let the other fly off into the distance.

Well, that could have gone better.

\-------------------------------

The man sighed, forlorn-looking as he trudged back to the residency of his human. The walk through a peaceful, morning forest was a welcome sight, but the thoughts that plagued his mind practically beat the calm from his heart. Ezquellie...Just didn't understand. That's right- She wasn't in his shoes, and all the advice she'd given was well-intentioned, but mislead and misdirected. Michael was doing things right, River just wasn't... _Right?_

Reaching the decrepit double doors that lead into the main halls of the warehouse, Michael was welcomed to the sight of locked...Well, locks. The padlocks the group usually kept around the heavy duty handlebars was clicked in an immovable position. While that wasn't a problem for Michael, gifted with ghostly powers, that also wasn't at the forefront of his mind- It was the fact that River had somehow left early in the morning without Michael feeling the tug of a guardian's bond.

"What the _fuck._ " The word physically burned his tongue as he spoke it, but Michael couldn't care less. Where the hell was River?! How far could they have gone? Which direction did they even go? He could only guess at what the criminal was doing at the moment, at the god-awful crack of dawn and with the truck still parked outside no less while the bond didn't so much as ping a burst of sensation that it was even there. Michael flitted in and around the warehouse, wanting to call out his ward's name but feeling stupid for considering it. He wouldn't be heard, and really, would the human actually answer back? So on both sides of the same coin, the angel would look impressively stupid.

How a human could just up and disappear, when a bond was placed specifically to _prevent that_ , was beyond him. What mattered now was finding an inkling of said bond, to try and find a gut instinct to guide him, so that the idiot didn't _die_ on his watch, or lackthereof. Shooting up into the air from his place on the forest floor, Michael settled high into the clouds, before taking deep breaths and focused on nothing but his inner monologue...The breeze, the feint light shining through his eyelids, the way his wings flapped with strength...

< _...Tug..._

"You've got to be kidding me." Michael opened his eyes, staring unimpressed into the nothingness of the sky. If his hair wasn't already a stark white, several locks would have turned grey from the stress of the realization alone. Not even bothering to heave a sigh, like the thousands before them, Michael shot off towards his idiotic human. River was already a few hundred miles away, evidently in a different mode of transportation than Michael had originally counted on. Apparently, this was why Michael wasn't able to feel the bond that well- It was stretched to its limits, and so was his patience.

\-------------------------------

By the time Michael caught up with River, it was in an entirely different part of the state- No doubt the group had to leave long before the light of dawn. But what could have it been for? Why would they travel so far, when they usually stayed within their territory back in their home town? Was River behind this change of pace, or were they just along for the ride? A small bug of concern ate away at the pit of the angel's stomach, but he quashed it before anything could really come of the realization that he was _concerned_ of all things for...

Nevermind. Apparently the group had picked up one of those white vans Michael often saw on television following kidnappings and human trafficking. Inconspicuous enough, if he wasn't already aware most people regarded those vans with scrutinizing at best, outright calling the police at worst. Diving down to fly next to the traveling band of misfits, Michael took a look at the driver- And immediately recognized it as...What was his name again? Ted? Ned?

"Yo, Zed, pass me the map!" Em yelled from the back of the van, kicking the back of Zed's seat. He growled, before throwing the map unceremoniously at her. This seemed to sate her, as Michael didn't hear anything else come from there.

He sighed, angling to phase into the van and semi-materialize inside it, struggling to find his footing in a moving vehicle after being moving himself. A mere few seconds of stumbling produced a heavy fall for him, back hitting the locked doors of the cabin, causing him to painfully curse for the second time today. Eyes clenched shut in pain, he sat there for a moment to regain composure and balance, the vertigo almost making him nauseous. When it finally subsided, he stood up, and inspected the cabin. Em was laying lengthwise on the left bench, one leg hanging off and swinging back and forth as she read a magazine. Another member of the gang was seated on the same bench, holding her other leg in their lap as they browsed through their phone with a wholly uninterested look upon their face. River sat on the opposite side, tapping a foot away at the metal floors impatiently. 

_'Of course River is here. Why wouldn't they be? But...Why does that make me feel like I'm not done here?'_

River sat, spread lazily over the seat melded into the side of the cabin, the whole vehicle shaking slightly every time it bumped into something on the road and jostling the occupents. Zed wasn't that much of a great driver anyway. Their arms were crossed, and they themself looked cross- Dark shadows under their eyes confessed that they left without sleeping.

_'Was it the nightmares again?'_ Michael thought without realizing. Why did he care? The last time he concerned himself with the nightmares, it ended up in temporary corruption and a few of his own. The burn marks he felt in the dream still itched if he thought about it too much. Despite feeling bitter still, Michael moved to situate himself on the bench next to River. He eyed the human charge warily, like they were going to suddenly turn to Michael and start talking to him. Lord in Heaven, if River did that, he just might have a heart attack...Which, again, wouldn't be fatal, but would still be vastly unpleasant.

"How much fuckin' longer? We've been driving for 8 hours! WHERE are we even goin' anyways?" River shouted at the front seats suddenly, causing Michael to flinch, yet was unmoving from the bench. River's eyes were sharp, with a lot of frustration and hate behind them...

"Jeeze, don't get your panties in a twist. It's not like we got the cops on our asses- Chill out." Em replied before anyone up front could, who was across on the other bench reading a magazine from a large stack next to her. She seemed just as pissy as River did, to be honest.

"Yeah, well, this shit wasn't my idea anyway...You better have good reason for this Zed, or your ass is gettin' handed to ya, panties and all." River settled back into the seat, not any less perturbed than before, but a lot more placated socially. Well, more like _'not wanting to engage'._ Michael could respect that. He could hear Em snickering in the background, likely at River's response.

Still, that begs the question...If River didn't know where they were going, did any of them? Was Zed the only one to know, or was Em in on it too? It didn't seem like she knew, either, judging by how she avoided the question entirely...Only time would tell, he supposed. Michael studied his charge from the corner of his eye while he thought, noting the small ticks River did whenever they were pissed off, like grinding their teeth for a moment before setting their jaw again. It's not like he could get the answers himself, or ask for them- Invisibility was convenient only when you don't care about anything that's going on around you.

_'I care when it affects River, dammit.'_

What?

_'I mean...When it affects my progress with River.'_

Better.

\-------------------------------

Turns out, that little road trip was for a new recruit.

The brother of Zed, apparently- Who was absolutely towering and buff like a tree trunk. Michael would feel almost threatened standing next to him, if it wasn't for the fact that he knew the man couldn't hurt him whilst invisible. Angel powers be damned, some things were just inevitable. Such as getting clocked in the jaw by a powerhouse. Not on his list of things to be done to him, to be honest. So Michael stayed ever closer to River, who didn't seem intimidated in the slightest, but wasn't exactly elated at the prospect of a new person joining without warning. River was, for some godawful reason, insistent on being obstinate and provocative of violent acts. Michael often caught his charge glaring heavily at the man behind his back, and the more blunt approach of them insulting the newbie wasn't an uncommon scene to bear witness to. It led to a few close calls, involving the rest of the gang to hold them both back from tearing each other's faces off. Why River insisted on picking a fight with the literal biggest of them there, he had no idea, but life was becoming even more of a pain than it was before. He had work to do on River, dammit, he didn't have time for _more_ setbacks!

Which was happening right now. Another setback. _In the form of River getting the shit beat out of them._

"Stop, you-!" Michael shouted fruitlessly at Ned- Zed's aptly named brother- Who currently had River in a headlock. He felt powerless right now, the human looking worse for wear with cuts, bruises, a broken nose and that's just what he could _see._ Doing something would only get himself caught. He prayed the gang would return to the warehouse soon and stop these two idiots, but a glance to the outside of the warehouse from the windows confirmed that no one was in sight for at least another mile.

Meanwhile, River managed to bite hard into Ned's arm, causing him to yell out in pain, dropping the smaller one on the ground. River coughed, rubbing their throat, but ultimately wasted no time in tripping up Ned- Literally. They swept their leg under Ned's, causing him to fall to the ground hard, the impact shaking the floor. Michael continued to watch as River then got on top of Ned, and started pummeling the shit out of his face. Michael hissed as he bore witness to the brutal display of anger, and did the only thing he could think of- Emitting a holy spell meant to calm troubled minds. It was similar to the trick he tried to use on a sleeping River that one night, but was more for a surrounding area and less for a specific person. Still, it was worth a shot, as riled up as these two were.

Thankfully, the glow was low and spread out enough that neither of the two present humans would notice the change in environment. As Michael whispered out Old Angelic to get the spell to work, he began realizing...It was not working. Well, not as _intended_ , anyhow...River continued to strike Ned as hard as they could, having the advantage for once in one of these fights. If anything, they seemed more confident and clear-headed than before. Had Michael just...Buffed them? Had he turned River's clouding anger into a sharp fury? _What the f-_

A sharp blow to the side of River's head from Ned's fist concluded the end of the fight in a matter of seconds. It was easy to tell River had blacked out from that alone, and slumped to the ground to the side.

"NO!" Michael shouted, forgetting whatever he did for River, he did for Ned too. He must have numbed the pain, made him fight through the vertigo, or, or _something_ -

Before Michael could control his panic, a burst of Light released itself from his chest with a strangled cry, the magic forcing Ned to slide back into a concrete column at a force definitely not meant for human skulls to withstand. An audible crack was heard, and the man's body went limp. River's body lay on their side near Michael's feet, unmoving. The warehouse was completely silent now, save for the labored breathing of Michael's impending panic attack. His eyes wide, staring at the body...

**_Had he just killed a human?_ **


End file.
